Gold in Peace, Iron in War
by LadyGeo
Summary: Vastly AU. Morgead turns to local law enforcement in his search for Jez and his life takes a different turn. Meanwhile, Jez has to come to terms with the consequences of one night of passion with her once best-friend turned enemy. Rated T for now.


**Prologue:**

This is what he remembers: Jez, bright like shards of glass burrowing under his skin. A bubble of laughter flitting past his ear, the __thwack__ of lacquered wood hitting his forearm; Jez poised beside him as they practiced extended strikes with the shillelagh. A tumble of diamonds, silver Rolex's and softly glowing antique coins spilling from an open back-pack and Jez sitting back on her heels, satisfied. __Mid-morning, best time for a little B &E __she said smugly as he shrugged off sleep to admire the loot. Knowing then that it'd be alright- that he didn't have to worry about cold rooms or past due notices in bold red lettering.

Then there were the softly-formed moments. The ones that held the downy inner bend of her elbow and the curve of her hipbone under his palm- as smooth and lightly veined as the inside of a scallop shell lifted up by the swell of the sea to crash against him. Again. And again, until he was lost in her. Jez besting him that last time, and as she pinned his head with her __bata__ he could still smell the salt-water on her skin. These moments and more, glinting and slicing deeper with each breath.

His mind skids over memories as his bike slices through dirty rain. Velvet-dark woods edge the road to his right; on his left the Pacific Ocean pounds sheer basalt cliffs. His headlight cuts a swath of light on the slick pavement. The curves come faster and faster until his jean-clad leg brushes the road and the smell of burnt rubber streaks the air with each swinging dip.

She exists in after-images—plumes of golden red blooming outwards from solid black and swirling purple. Sometimes, when the pain pulls sharp he gasps and catches those shapes on his tongue to remember how they'd turned bitter. But he knows. She chose this. She left. But then his thoughts skip and spin catch on visions of her limp form flung off the roadside, brambles in her hair and black flies over her mouth and _Maya's blood the wind is stinging his eyes._ He knows he can't leave it at that. He has to know if she's alive, even if she doesn't want him to.

Morgead was no stranger to the Southerton Police Station, the headquarters of the San Francisco Police Department. It was a squat, older brick building whose quaint white trimmed arched windows seemed at odds with the glass and steel monoliths that sprouted outside and the smell of dry rot and faint vermin piss that pervaded within. When he was first brought in at the age of twelve he had wondered how the humans could stand the smell. Now it mingles with the tinge of despair that has sat at the back of his throat for the past several weeks.

Morgead stared at the wooden bench across from him and remembers Jez kneeling there as he sat next to her, her stray hairs tickling the side of his face as she giggled in his ear _Uncle Bracken is going to be sooo mad_ she'd said with her lips a round "o"and her eyes wide with glee.

"Can I help you?" The man behind the desk asked in a flat, tired, but not unkind tone.

"I need to file a missing person's report." Because this was his last resort,he didn't know what else to do. Bracken either didn't care or thought that if he stayed in one place long enough she'd eventually come back. Morgead and the gang had plastered SoMa and Mission City with the flyers he had made. HAVE YOU SEEN ME? Typed in bold lettering under a flat black and white image of Jez's face. They'd even ventured to Pier39 and Nob Hill in the hope that some swanky do-gooder had seen her face somewhere. But all he'd received for his efforts was a voicemail full of weirdos and kids ( _vermin)_ his own age laughing about how yeah they'd seen her _sucking them off_ and by Maya he'd wanted to tear their throats out with his own teeth and hear their laughter turn to squeals of terror.

"Of course,"his murderous thoughts are interrupted and the clerk's voice has gone even softer and _fuck don't pity me , she's not dead_ he thinks as the clerk reaches for a form and guides him to a separate room to have his statement taken.

 **Officer Pendragon**

 _Morgead Blackthorn._ He knew the kid, had picked him up a few times and suspected him for a handful of other petty thefts. He makes an effort to keep tabs on the Nightworlders in his city, especially troublemakers like this one. It's not often that the kid's without his leggy redheaded shadow or looking so hangdog so Pendragon is intrigued. That is, until he sees the title of the form on his clipboard. _Missing Person. Shit._ And it comes to this age old story again. Another bird flown the coop leaving loved ones to pickup the pieces. He takes a seat at the table and gestures for Morgead to do the same. Questions about name, age, height, weight and physical description blur together. Once he has all of the boxes checked and lines filled in with his neat, tiny script, Pendragon sits back and takes stock of the young vampire in front of him.

He's crumpled in the chair, head hanging low and dark hair falling in front of his eyes. His gaze is glued to his hands splayed on the table in front of him under the yellowish light.. _He's just a kid. A dangerous, bloodsucking kid just like you were once._ Word on the street was he and his gang were responsible for the mysterious deaths of some unsavory characters that prowled Mission City. Most cops would say good riddance, but Pendragon liked order in his city- and disliked the mountain of paperwork and press caused by bodies washing up on the quay.

"Did anything happen that would make her run? Was there anyone she was afraid of?" He sees an expression skitter across the kids face. _Guilt? Fear? Damn, too fast to tell. But there's something there._ He remembers the girl, head tilted back in laughter at his officer's sorry attempts to scold some sense into her, and thinks it would take a rare thing to make a girl that fearless run.

"There is one thing.." And here it comes, he can read the guilt in the tight flick of eyes to the side, a nervous wetting of his lips. The kid starts in on a story of an illegal hunt in Muir woods the night of her disappearance and things go from bad to worse.

"You realize that what you're confessing to is punishable by death under Night World law?" The kid falters for a moment, then sticks out his chin and glares defiantly at him. "Yeah, so?" _He's got guts. Brains? Well, we'll see._

"If it will help find her.." the kid's glare softens. Pendragon lets him sit on that for a bit and goes to grab some coffee from the machine in the hall. As he watches acidic brown sludge spit out into his cup, an idea starts to brew in his mind. This could be good. Help the kid out, then he'd have someone to call on with ties to the lowlifes in this city. It had nothing to do with the stirring of pity he got deep in his stomach looking at the bag's under the kid's eyes, or the desperate tight lines of his face.

He's brusque and all business as he enters the room again"Look I'll be straight with you. The Missing Persons unit already has a heavy case-load and not enough men to cover them all." He sees the kid close down like he was expecting this, expecting the law to fail him. His next words bristle with reserved anger.

"Right, sorry to waste your time by asking you to do your _job_ " he's almost up and out of his chair before Pendragon can hold up a hand to stay him."Hold on, now I didn't say no did I?" The kid sits back down. "I'll take this case on my own, but I'm going to need some help. Your help."

 **Morgead**

The vampire cop asked for his help like by going to the police he'd just stop looking for her himself. He doesn't realize that Morgead breathes her, can feel the shape of her smile in every moment. Her flame-red hair lashes at the edge of his vision every time that he closes his eyes.

On his way out, he hands Pendragon the list of hospitals and Night World hangouts he'd been calling daily. He has another copy, more well-worn and creased than this one, by the phone back at his place.

The cop had asked if Jez had been afraid of would've laughed at that a month ago, before things had shifted between them. His thoughts spin back to clothes strewn on his floor, the buzz of the TV in the background and the heady press of skin on skin and Jez's breathy gasp in his ear and he was _inside her_ and Maya's blood he can't breath again. Doubt has its claws in his chest as he remembers her words the next morning _"It's not like it means anything, Morgy. It was just some fun."_. _Did she not want it? Did I...fuck._ He is cold to his fingertips as he considers again the possibility that Jez might've run from _him._

Pendragon's call came in as Morgead watched the dawn bloom outside of his shuttered blinds. "Hello?" his voice sounds scratchy and unused to his ears. Dogs are fighting over scraps in the street below so he shuts his window to hear better.

"We've found someone matching Jezebel's description. I need you down at the Medical Examiner's office to identify the body." _The body._ That word rattles around in Morgead's head the entire ride over until it breaks down into its separate sounds and loses all meaning. _Just a body, just a body. You've seen those before_ he chants as he strides through the sterile halls, along with _please not Jez._ Then he's standing beside Pendragon whose lined grey eyes consider him carefully before nodding to the medical technician to pull up the blinds. After months of searching, cold-calling youth outreach centers, hospitals, hell even Jez's infuriating cousin Ash, they're here staring at a body on slab as dread crawls up Morgead's spine. The med tech is reciting facts about the body and how it was found, but his words are muffled like he's speaking under water. The light is too bright and throws the exposed teeth and sunken eyes of the death-grimace into harsh relief. Her hair is matted and turned brown along with her skin from the soil she had been submerged in. He heard the med tech say _piercing trauma to the chest, body dump site,_ and _wetlands_ and he could smell the peaty, rotten stench of decayed plant matter, but beneath that a distinct smell. He doubled over and Pendragon put an arm out to steady him.

"It's not her." he ground out. "Are you sure?" Pendragon's normally gruff voice was softer with concern.

"Yeah, I'm sure."he nods and stands up, taking a deep breath and running his hands over his face and through his hair. "Alright, well hold on while I wrap up some paperwork really fast." he squeezes Morgead's shoulder and walks off down the hall. Morgead's gaze follows him, then alights on a middle-aged couple clutching each other as they stand before the next viewing window. He feels the apprehension and fear roiling off of them. The blinds are raised and the woman's sharp cry echoes down the cold hall as her legs gave out from under her and her husband cradled her head against his chest and nods to the technician. The med tech lowered the blinds. They are human, but Morgead now understood the grief that streaks through their bones.

Pendragon is there before him again, offering a styrofoam cup of that horrible black human drink. He waves it away and Pendragon shrugs and also looks at the couple, then back to Morgead. "What do you think of that?" he asks and sips from his cup.

"I think no one should have to go through that." Morgead answers honestly.

Pendragon considers him for a long moment, steam from his coffee rising up to circle his grey eyes. "You could help people like them you know. It would take training, but you'd have access to police resources."

Morgead looks at him coolly "You want me to become a cop?"has asks with skepticism.

Pendragon shrugs "Do what you want, it's your life. Or you could keep gang-banging and shaking down easy targets for cash. But I think you're smarter than that." Morgead looks down and tries to hide how much one person's belief in him can matter so much.

"I'll think about it"

 **Jez**

 _Goddess, how did this happen?_ Jez stares at a shelf littered with rose quartz, amethyst and sage smudge sticks as she waits for the Daybreaker witch to return with the results. Her feet are bare, and the back of the white gown they gave her gaps and lets in a rush of cool air. She shivers, and taps her fingers against the cushioned plastic of the exam table. The healer comes back with a smile that sets Jez's heart galloping. "It's positive"she says hesitantly and Jez's mind fills with white noise.

"But...it takes _ages_ for vampires to...you know" _Get knocked up? Conceive?_ It was true. It could take a bond-mated vampire couple a human generation to conceive.

"Your situation is a little...unique" the witch says gently. _Right. Half human, and they apparently can multiply like rabbits. And I didn't know then. We were stupid and high on each other and the hunt that night._ Her heart throbs as she thinks of Morgead —her best friend through childhood, most recently her nemesis, and now what? Her lover? She wasn't sure one night counted for that, and besides they had gone right back to hating each other the next day. _Because you told him it didn't mean anything,_ a small voice inside her says. _It doesn't matter,_ she argues back _if he didn't hate me before, he'd be disgusted now. He hates humans, always has._ In the months that she'd been away, she'd grown more certain of the fact that Morgead was a true Night Worlder and would revel in the subjugation of the human race. _He would turn you and this child in..._ Jez feels a surge of protectiveness and rests a hand on her still flat belly. The healer continues talking.

'There are other options. I know of several pair-bonds who would love to adopt a vampire child—even if it's part human."Jez stares incredulously at the witch and resist the sudden urge to hit her. It's then that she knows that she wants this child, and she will kill anyone or anything who tries to harm it. _Including Morgead._

Out in the parking lot she rests her head on the top of Claire's car as a wave of dizziness washes over with thoughts of _I can't do this, I'm a killer not a mother_ and a smaller, more scared voice saying _I don't want to do this alone._ Then her cousin is there, her hand hesitantly touching Jez's leather-clad shoulder and her small dark features scrunched up in concern.

"Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? What did the doctors say? I gotta say, I never thought you'd go in for all of this new age natural medicine." Jez quirks a smile at Claire's burst of questions. She's now grateful for her cousin's nosiness and persistent questions like "why are you puking your guts out so much lately"or "geez Jez, have you put on weight? That shirt's looking tight. You should give it to me." Claire's needling had given way to genuine concern for her cousin. Thankfully Claire had seen a need for tact and only voiced her suspicions to Jez, urging her to see a doctor.

"Your parents are going to hate me" Jez groaned. Claire offered a wobbly smile "No they won't. But they might ground you for eternity and slap you into a chastity belt."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" she quips as she opens the car door and slides inside.

A/N: Guuuyyys I don't know what I'm doing with this plot bunny! If anyone is willing to beta/bounce ideas off of I would be super grateful. Also, if you have any constructive criticism about the characterizations and dialogue that would be much appreciated too! Someone might notice that the prologue is taken from the first chapter of some drabbles I posted under another account.


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